"It's but a trifle, not worth our attention. But I
thank you just the same for bringing it to my notice."
And again his manner became a plain dismissal.
This time I accepted it as such without question. Carelessly
restoring the piece of blotting-paper to the book from which I had
taken it, I made a bow and withdrew toward the door. He seemed to
be thinking, and the deep furrows which I am sure had been lacking
from his brow a week previous, became startlingly visible. Finally
he observed:
"Mrs. Jeffrey was not in her right mind when she so unhappily took
her life. I see now that the change in her dates back to her
wedding day, consequently any little peculiarity she may have shown
at that time is not to be wondered at."
"Certainly not," I boldly ventured; "if such peculiarities were
shown after the fright given her by the catastrophe which took place
in the library."
His eyes, which were fixed on mine, flashed, and his hands closed
convulsively.
"We will not consider the subject," he muttered, reseating himself
in the chair from which he had risen.
I bowed again and went out. I did not dwell on the interview in my
own mind nor did I allow myself to draw any conclusions from it,
till I had carried the blotter into the southwest chamber of the
Moore house and carefully compared the impressions made on it with
the marks I had scratched on the surface of the mantel-shelf.
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